


Carry me slowly (my sunrise)

by IndulgentDiscourse



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Jon rescues Martin, M/M, i guess?, post-MAG 159, the lonely is a metaphor for depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndulgentDiscourse/pseuds/IndulgentDiscourse
Summary: A look at Martin's perspective while he's in The Lonely.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 44





	Carry me slowly (my sunrise)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y'all! I got sucked into TMA somehow, and then two of my friends did, so I listened to too much Hozier and decided to try and make my friend yell at me by writing this up on a whim. Title comes from "Sunlight". Please let me now what y'all think, and comment if you can!

The Lonely is cold. It's cold and damp from the sea spray that clings to his sweater, the fog that curls itself around him. Martin doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel much of anything, these days. Hasn't felt much since Peter grabbed his hand and pulled him into the Lonely. If he really thinks about it, he hasn't felt much since even before then. Perhaps as long as he can remember, maybe. But thinking about that is too much effort, so he lets the thought slip away; allows his mind to settle and still. 

The fog kisses his skin, gentle and cool. Once, he might have compared it to a lover. It holds him, quiets him. Now, when he tries to think of words that attempt to describe just how bone-deep the chill is, they slide away into the sea that laps at the toes of his work shoes. 

The world around him is gray, the same kind of gray that one only feels in the earliest depths of morning, at dawn on the days when the city is quiet and muffled. Days when it seems entirely possible that he's the only one on the street, in the city, in the world. It used to be comforting. It almost still is. 

Those days used to be his favorite kind when he was younger. When he'd slip out into the back garden, and watch the flowers his mother had once painstakingly planted dim in vibrancy and shade as the sun rose behind thick clouds. In those moments, he could almost pretend his mother's harsh words and scouring glances didn't hurt as much as they did. 

The sound of the waves rushes in his ears. It's so loud, pulling him closer. Inviting. He's read about cold water before. He knows that you struggle, just for a moment, before you go numb, unfeeling. Uncaring, unable to try and fight your way back to the surface as you sink below it. 

The waves are so loud he almost doesn't hear the shouting. 

He almost doesn't see Jon, who is stumbling around in the fog, calling his name. The Lonely parts around him. It wants to _take_ , it _wants_ and _desires_ the Archivist, but the Eye's claim is too strong for it to envelop him. 

Jon's voice is shockingly loud against the backdrop of the water and mist. Jon begs for him to come back. Jon takes his hand, pulls weakly. 

"I used to love you, you know," he says. It felt important, once upon a time, for Jon to know this. Not that it really matters anymore. 

For a while, he isn't aware of much. It isn't until he feels Jon's hands grabbing his arm that he knows. Peter is dead, he can feel it the same way he feels the fog gripping him tighter. Jon's face is in front of him, but he barely focuses his eyes. There's no real point, because Jon will leave him alone again soon. 

"What do you see?"

He doesn't answer. It's too much effort; he feels it weighing on his chest, a solid pressure that could choke the breath out of him. 

"Martin, look at me, and tell me what you see." 

He speaks, and at first the answer comes unwillingly, pulled from his lungs by the Eye's compulsion. 

"I see you." 

As he speaks, it gets easier. The warmth of Jon's hand on his arm radiates into his body, almost chasing the chill away. He notices the fog being burned away from the two of them. It's not so cold anymore. 

"I- I see you, Jon. I see you." 

As Martin speaks, tears run down his cheeks. The human body is a fragile thing, not meant to suppress emotions for so long, and he can't help the desperate sob that slips from him as Jon pulls him into a fierce embrace. 

Jon's arms barely go around Martin's torso, and the top of his head barely comes up to the top of Martin's chin, but it's perfect. Martin clings to Jon, lets himself be held by something that isn't Peter's deceit or the Lonely's cold. 

Jon breaks away first, and when he looks at Martin, Martin feels his heart clench. There's so much _love_ there, so much desperation that it's spilling out of Jon like sunlight, burning away the mist and cold.

"Don't worry, I know the way home." Jon takes his hand and guides him forward, the Lonely parting around them. 


End file.
